


Woke Up New

by changingapart



Series: Fault [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changingapart/pseuds/changingapart
Summary: Title:Woke Up NewAuthor:SulkygeekRating:R just to be safe for some sexual referencesLength:10,000Spoilers:Through Sectionals, includes some spoilers I read for the upcoming season, but nothing too in-depth.Summary:Follow-up to ‘Fault.’ In here, I ask, “Who hated spring?” (the season) and for anyone else who hates Spring, I DO, TOO. I have major allergies, I am a damn hot mess in the Spring. I have ONE more follow-up which is more Rachel POV. Woke Up New is a song by the Mountain Goats, but it’s actually about a breakup. This is a reverse of a breakup.
Series: Fault [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179926
Kudos: 2
Collections: slkgk





	Woke Up New

**Title:** Woke Up New  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R just to be safe for some sexual references  
**Length:** 10,000  
**Spoilers:** Through Sectionals, includes some spoilers I read for the upcoming season, but nothing too in-depth.  
**Summary:** Follow-up to ‘Fault.’ In here, I ask, “Who hated spring?” (the season) and for anyone else who hates Spring, I DO, TOO. I have major allergies, I am a damn hot mess in the Spring. I have ONE more follow-up which is more Rachel POV. Woke Up New is a song by the Mountain Goats, but it’s actually about a breakup. This is a reverse of a breakup.

  
\--

“No one said it would be easy,” Rachel once told her, right before they started dating.

It was an accurate statement of what was to come.

Quinn Fabray was pretty confident in her abilities to hold someone’s interest, particularly the interest of someone she was dating. It was sort of mortifying that Rachel was more experienced than she was, but she comforted herself by rationalizing that Rachel was kind of a ho, and Jewish, so it’s not like she had a fear of Hell which kept her in line for most of her life. On the other hand, she was from a family of good-standing (even if it was primarily comprised of assholes) and feared going to Hell since she was five years old in Sunday school. She was bitchy and mean, but she wasn’t evil. And despite having a baby out of wedlock, she wasn’t really a ho. She wasn’t ready to go any further, and Rachel wasn’t pushing for more, which was nice. And given the way Rachel would get flushed and breathy when all they did was make-out, Quinn liked to believe Rachel was satisfied. She liked to believe she held Rachel’s interest.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Rachel assured. “No pressure. We could even read a manual or something. I’m sure there is a myriad of reference material we could look into, maybe even some 3-D models or--”

“Please stop,” Quinn said, wincing at the thought of manuals and 3-D models of anatomy that were to scale. She had a flashback to fifth grade sex ed, which was more about basic anatomy, like calling things by their name (penis, vagina) and not by some ridiculous nickname (peepee, hoohaw) and like, nocturnal emissions. Then she wondered if there really were 3-D models to scale that simulated lesbian sex, sort of like those 3-D models of the solar system where the planets actually rotated around the sun. It gave her the shivers, and not in a good way. As hot as Rachel could be-- and Lord God, Quinn could concede Rachel could be very _very_ hot, the girl really knew how to ruin a mood.

But at least Quinn was reasonably convinced Rachel wasn’t with her just for the promise of sex. Just because Quinn wasn’t a virgin anymore didn’t mean she wanted to have sex all the time. It wasn’t like that at all, in fact. And there were multiple times when Rachel completely ruined the mood, when Quinn was on the verge of telling Rachel she was ready, that she wanted it. Like the time when they were making out and Rachel pulled away to say that she was thirsty, so she scrambled away and came back with a glass of carrot juice and prattled off about how once, when she was little, her fathers fed her so many carrots, she turned orange, and they took her to the pediatrician, and the pediatrician was like, “stop feeding her so many carrots.” Rachel told the story complete with imitating voices and accompanying hand gestures, and while it was really _cute_ and honestly did sort of endear Rachel to Quinn more because she was picturing an orange younger version of Rachel, it also ruined the mood. Or the time when Quinn and Rachel were at the video store and Quinn said she was in the mood for a horror movie with the sole intent to make out with Rachel, because you were _supposed_ to grab onto the person you were dating during suspenseful moments in horror movies, and Quinn had this whole plan to be cool and suave. Rachel chose _Teeth_ , a fucking movie about vagina dentata, which completely freaked Quinn out and then it turned out Rachel had actually already seen the movie before, which led Quinn to wonder what sort of person would want to see _that_ movie again?

Seriously--vagina fucking dentata? Rachel could be such a mood killer sometimes, and it was utterly exasperating. Once, they watched a pornographic movie together, which sort of embarrassed Quinn to admit, but Rachel said that maybe they could learn something from it, and so Quinn agreed because she was kind of curious about it.

The movie itself was horrible. There was no plot, and the girls were all so intimidating in their bodily perfection. And the girls were just so _raunchy_ , it freaked her out. But she found herself getting turned on nonetheless, and she thought about doing some of those things with Rachel, which she supposed had been the whole point. She thought about her mouth in between Rachel’s legs, thought about making Rachel moan and writhe around like the girls in that video, she thought about how Rachel would look with her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. But then Rachel said, “hey! I have a towel just like that,” and pointed at the stupid beach towel that was lying on the lounge chair, _way_ in the background. She sounded so ridiculously pleased with herself, and then she stopped the DVD to try to search for that towel just so she could prove it to Quinn, despite the fact the blonde insisted she didn’t care. And once again, the moment was lost. And Quinn was utterly baffled by how she was so turned on, and Rachel seemed so unfazed, because really, getting fixated on the _towel_? It wasn’t even particularly nice!

“See?” Rachel said, flashing a pleased grin at Quinn and holding up the towel. “It’s the same, right?”

Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed, humoring Rachel by looking at the towel and then staring at the towel on the TV, _way_ in the background.

“It is,” she agreed.

Then Rachel kissed her, and Quinn forgot that she was irritated with Rachel for having such talent for ruining moments. They kissed until Rachel pulled away and offered to drive Quinn home. And although Quinn wanted to stay, she just knew what would happen if she did. And she didn’t think she was ready yet. So she nodded and Rachel smiled at her and then Rachel drove her home.

Quinn took a cold shower-- she took a lot of cold showers since she started dating Rachel. She took a lot more cold showers dating Rachel than she had while she was dating poor Finn, that was for sure. It was yet another indicator she was definitely more gay than she was straight. And when she scrubbed herself with body wash, her hands running down her body with a loofah sponge, she thought about those women in that DVD, the way they’d touched one another, and she thought about Rachel touching her in a way she never thought about Finn or Puck touching her.

She wanted sex, but she didn’t want it and she was constantly at odds with herself. On the one hand, all those values that had been driven into her-- chastity, purity, virginity and all that stuff, were still important to her. Granted she wasn’t a virgin anymore, but she didn’t have to keep doing it. On the other hand, she _really_ wanted Rachel. Rachel was always sweetly respectful-- her hands never strayed below the waist, and only touched Quinn’s breasts when Quinn was okay with. Quinn didn’t feel any pressure from Rachel _at all_ , but she did wonder how much longer Rachel would be patient. Not that she ever asked Rachel-- she just wondered.

So even though sometimes, she wanted to shout “will you _please_ stop cockblocking your own stupid self?!” she was also kind of relieved that Rachel cockblocked her own stupid self.

\--  
  
Rachel never seemed all that interested in anyone else, at least, no one they went to school with, and in between regular school hours, glee, other extracurricular activities and after school study groups, they really did spend the bulk of their day in school. Quinn had the sense Rachel may still be hung up on her ex-girlfriend and she was _definitely_ hung up on her ex-boyfriend, but Rachel seemed so trustworthy. But still, Quinn got the sense Rachel was hiding _something_ or maybe just holding back. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that even though Rachel was unbelievably _sweet_ to her, something felt off. Something felt wrong between them, and Quinn couldn’t put her finger on it, because for the most part, she was pretty happy with Rachel. After all, it was the first time she dated someone who let her set the pace, who demanded nothing of her. But Rachel just seemed _blank_ and she didn’t seem at all inclined to make more of an effort to be present. It was downright unsettling, and Quinn knew she should put that aside, but she couldn’t.

Then Rachel’s ex-girlfriend came home from Berkeley for Spring Break during their senior year of high school, and Quinn was immediately suspicious. And then she got pissed off at how incredibly insensitive Rachel could be because Rachel didn’t seem to understand that spending time with her ex-girlfriend would make Quinn jealous. Not that Quinn admitted she was jealous, of course. But she was definitely peeved and Rachel was frustratingly mystified about why that would be.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Quinn asked on the last day of school before Spring Break, which was a Friday.

“Did we have plans?” Rachel asked quizzically.

“Don’t we always?” Quinn asked irritably. “It’s _date_ night.”

“But last week you wanted to have girls’ night with Brittany and Santana and you said I wasn’t invited because the whole point of girls’ night is to be away from the person you are dating. And I pointed out that Brittany and Santana are dating, and you said that I counted as the boy in this relationship because I have Man Hands and--”

“I remember what I said,” Quinn cut off, crankily.

She’d had to deal with the wave of guilt when she saw the flash of hurt on Rachel’s face, and then the irrational anger she felt towards the brunette when Rachel chose not to comment on something that clearly hurt her. Because, God, passive-aggressive, much?

Then she had to deal with anxiety all night when Rachel didn’t call her or text her even once. She’d be painting her toes and glance at her phone, hoping that it would light up with a text message or something, but it never did.

Then she had to deal with the jealousy she felt when Kurt texted her in all capital letters with multiple exclamation marks that Rachel was sitting in a booth at Dahlia’s with that jerk ex-boyfriend of hers. And of course, she had to call Rachel ranting, and then had to feel completely chastened when Rachel quietly said she was just picking up some late night take-out for movie night with her dads when she ran into that jerk, and she felt too awkward turning him down when he asked her to sit while she waited for the food.

“He was with his new girlfriend,” Rachel explained quietly once Quinn finished a particularly vituperative tirade. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

It was then that Quinn realized being irrationally jealous meant she was way more invested into the relationship than she wanted. She wanted to be kinder to Rachel, she really did, but there was always this compulsion not to be. She was frequently insensitive to Rachel, but she wasn’t insensitive to being insensitive.

Now it was just one weekend later, and it was Rachel who had plans when Quinn didn’t. It wasn’t supposed to be like this-- Rachel was supposed to be free when Quinn was free. She shouldn’t be the one with a life. And God help her, but she was still pissed at Rachel for even _talking_ to that guy, so she’d been a little meaner to Rachel all week. Rachel didn’t comment or call her out on it, but Quinn couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Rachel wanted some time away from her, and that was why Rachel never asked Quinn if she wanted to do something that night.

“What are you doing tonight if you weren’t planning on hanging out with me?” Quinn asked.

She wasn’t looking for an invitation or anything (well...maybe) and she definitely did not want to be one of those girls who had to do _everything_ with the person they were dating (she really didn’t-- sometimes, she got nauseous at the way Brittany and Santana did everything together and were so damnably happy being together). But Quinn did think she had _some_ right to know what Rachel was doing that night. They were dating, after all.

“Well, Cindy is coming in for Spring Break. She said her parents are working late, so she asked if I could pick her up from the airport. So I am.”

Quinn was understandably outraged. “You’re spending date night picking up your ex-girlfriend from the airport?”

“My _friend_ , Cindy,” Rachel corrected. “I didn’t want to assume you were free, so--”

“So you assumed I wasn’t?”

Rachel muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “stop being such a woman.”

“What?” Quinn demanded.

“Nothing,” Rachel said innocently, her eyes, wide. She smiled sweetly at Quinn. “Would you like to join me?”

“ _No_ ,” Quinn said balefully. “No, I don’t want to pick up your ex-girlfriend at the airport with you.”

“Call me if you change your mind. I can pick you u--”

“I won’t. Just call me when you get home.”  
\--

Quinn was nearly crazed with jealousy. First she stared at her phone and started to believe if she stared hard enough at it, it would either ring or beep. Then she thought possibly her phone was out of order, so she used her grandmother’s landline to call herself, and it rang to indicate it was working. But just as she was about to hang-up, her grandmother picked up the other phone and started dialing, and so Quinn had to call out she was using the phone. But then her grandmother got confused as to why Quinn’s own voice was answering on the other line and so Quinn had to explain she was calling herself and then her grandmother asked if she’d lost her cell phone or something and it led into this entire big _discussion_ and really, Quinn just wanted to shout that all she wanted to do was to make sure her phone worked. But she didn’t want to explain why. She irrationally blamed Rachel for the whole debacle.

But most of all, she was worried. She was worried that Cindy would have gotten it together in college-- after all, she was at Berkeley, which was near San Francisco which was practically the gay capital of America, right? All that freedom, being so far away from home-- surely Cindy would have figured something out. And she remembered how distraught Cindy was, even though she’d been the one to initiate the breakup. Quinn was worried Rachel would be impressed with Cindy and she was worried Rachel would end things with her in favor of Cindy. It just seemed so damn _easy_ for Rachel-- she got crushes on guys and girls, just seemed so willing to go from person to person, from girl to boy. Quinn didn’t think it would be so easy for herself.

\--

When Rachel hadn’t called by 10pm, Quinn was jealous and angry, when she hadn’t called by midnight, Quinn was jealous and furious, and when she hadn’t called by 2am, Quinn was jealous, enraged and worried. How long could it take to pick some girl up from the airport and drop her off? She wasn’t so much worried Rachel was in an accident, because Rachel was old lady careful when she drove. She was worried Rachel was in bed with Cindy somewhere.

So from 2am onward, she called Rachel relentlessly every few minutes. She didn’t want to, but she was just compelled. It was a compulsion, and she had to obey, because the very definition of a compulsion was something you didn’t necessarily want to _do_ , but you had to anyway. And each time it went to voicemail, and each text message she sent was unreturned, it just fueled her frustration.

Until finally, Rachel did answer.

Quinn knew something was wrong from the moment Rachel said “hi.” Her voice, her tone, the volume, it was all wrong.

She ascertained pretty quickly that Rachel wasn’t driving, but she wasn’t sure _where_ Rachel was, or where she was going because Rachel didn’t seem to know either.

Rachel passed the phone to Cindy, who was the one driving, and Quinn made sure that Cindy was okay to drive, because hello, that was Quinn’s sort-of girlfriend in the passenger seat. They argued back and forth, but Cindy finally agreed to stop by Quinn’s house, rather than driving straight to her own house and having Rachel sleep over there.  
  
Cindy got into the backseat once Quinn got into the driver’s seat, and they drove in silence to Cindy’s house. But Quinn got out of the car when Cindy did and she was _furious_ that Cindy seemed completely sober, whereas Rachel blotto drunk. She didn’t know what the hell Cindy was planning, but Quinn didn’t like it. “She didn’t really care about what I wanted,” Rachel once told her about Cindy. “I wasn’t ready our first time, even though it wasn’t my first time. That’s why I don’t pressure you,” Rachel explained when Quinn finally asked her why Rachel wasn’t pushing for them to go any further.

Quinn saw the way Cindy looked at Rachel and it wasn’t friendly and Quinn didn’t like it. There was yearning and regret, and it was just so _plain_ on Cindy’s face. Quinn had no idea why Rachel couldn’t see it. Quinn didn’t think Cindy was the kind of person to get Rachel drunk just to take advantage of her, but Rachel herself always said she never learned to say ‘no’ to Cindy, even when she wanted to.

Quinn re-entered her bedroom with a glass of juice and a bottle of waster at the precise moment Rachel had woken up and was glancing around the bedroom.

“Cin?” Rachel called out in confusion.

“She’s home,” Quinn informed her.

Rachel squinted up at Quinn. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember?”

Rachel sighed irritably. “Why would I ask you if you did?”

“Well, your _ex_ -girlfriend thought she should take you to her house, but I convinced her otherwise.”

Rachel frowned. “What happened?”

“You were drunk,” Quinn said gruffly. “Cindy thought she should take you to her house, but I convinced her to drive you here instead. Then I took her home. I didn’t want to take you home because you were pretty obnoxious and I was afraid your dads would wake up and my grandma’s kind of hard of hearing, so I brought you back here.”

“But I could have just stayed with Cindy,” Rachel said, more like she was thinking out loud.

Quinn glared at her. “Oh, really?”

Rachel flushed. “I just meant, you didn’t have to get involved. I mean, you weren’t the one I got drunk with, so why should you be the one to take care of me?”

Quinn softened. “I didn’t mind.”

Quinn was embarrassed for herself that she practically blew up Rachel’s phone with phone calls and text messages. She wondered what would have happened if Rachel hadn’t finally picked up the phone.

At first, it was sort of funny Rachel was so drunk, because she was alternately passed out and hilariously alert and awake. Like, when Rachel woke up on the drive to Cindy’s house from Quinn’s, she went from being passed out to randomly singing “Take On Me” as loudly as she could. Both Quinn and Cindy smiled in amusement as Rachel clutched her heart, threw her arms in the air, pretended her fist was a microphone she could sing into. “Take on me,” she sang in the most heartfelt tones, ever.

It was so silly and cute, and it was even funnier because the radio wasn’t on. Quinn found herself wishing she could film Rachel’s drunken shenanigans because she could embarrass Rachel with the footage, but more importantly, she honestly wanted to keep a tangible memory of it. It was just so _adorable_.

But Quinn was _furious_ when she saw Cindy turn in her seat to reach out to Rachel.

“Baby,” Cindy said softly, smiling tenderly at Rachel. She cupped Rachel’s cheek and Rachel held her head forward, fucking leaning in _toward_ Cindy! “You know I think it’s cute when you get drunk and sing without music, but put your seatbelt back on, okay?” Cindy asked, grinning at Rachel like they were sharing some stupid private joke.

Rachel looked back at Cindy, smile bright and eyes wide. “You still think I’m cute?”

“I’ve always thought you were cute.”

Rachel grinned back at her. She flopped backward, sinking deeper into the backseat and buckled herself back in. Then she fell asleep again and snored softly.

Quinn could have eaten her own liver at that moment, she was so furious.

Rachel was still asleep when Cindy got her things out of the trunk. Quinn got out, too, and angrily confronted her.

“I _know_ you used to date Rachel,” Quinn snapped, feeling a moment of malicious pleasure when she saw the blood drain out of Cindy’s face. “What were you planning getting her drunk and keeping her out all night like this?”

“I wasn’t planning _anything_ ,” Cindy protested, hands raised defensively. “Rach and I are friends.”  
  
“Well, I don’t see _you_ drunk,” Quinn said.

Cindy’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you even care about what Rachel and I do?” she asked. “Don’t think I don’t know that you were the one blowing up Rachel’s phone all night.”

Quinn felt her face turn red. “That’s none of your business.”

“Well, Rachel and I are none of your business, either.”

“Yes, it is!” Quinn snapped before she could stop herself.

Cindy looked at Quinn and then back at the car where Rachel was passed out. She looked suddenly despondent. “ _Oh_ ,” she said, more in a whisper to herself. She hurried away, practically fleeing as she grabbed her stuff. Quinn stared after her, wishing she could shank Cindy in the back.

Quinn drove around for a little while. Her grandmother was already asleep and kind of a deep sleeper, but she didn’t want to risk going home too soon and have Rachel wake up and start singing A-Ha’s entire discography. She needed Rachel to sober up a little bit, and she knew she couldn’t take Rachel home because Rachel’s fathers would be upset if she came home in this state.

“Quinn,” Rachel murmured happily, when she woke up again during the drive. “I’m glad you’re here.” She pressed her forehead into Quinn’s upper arm as Quinn drove.

“Oh really?” Quinn asked. “Because I’m supposed to know that because you called me so often tonight, right?” she asked bitterly. “And because you were so friendly with her right in front of me?”

Rachel sighed. “Cindy made me nervous,” she admitted with a soft sigh. “But I didn’t want to be with her tonight. I wanted to be with you. But she asked me to pick her up from the airport, and we’re friends, and friends do that for each other.” Rachel frowned. “I hate the airport,” she complained peevishly. “I hope she doesn’t ask me to drop her off when she has to go back to Berkeley.”

Quinn bit her lower lip in amusement, feeling some of her jealousy slip away at how annoyed Rachel sounded. “So nothing happened between you two?”

Rachel snorted. “No,” she said. “I don’t want to do anything with her anymore.”

Quinn smiled, feeling a little cocky. “Good.”

“I’m glad _you’re_ here though,” Rachel said with a soft sigh. Quinn could feel Rachel’s eyelashes as Rachel’s eyes fluttered shut. “She’s pushy and I always end up doing things I don’t want to do with her. It felt good most of the time, but I didn’t always want to and I don’t think she cared. You don’t make me do anything I don’t want to.”

Quinn pursed her lips, feeling disdain for Rachel’s ex-girlfriend rise up. She wanted to ask a little more about it, but Rachel had always left it as feeling pushed into doing something before she was ready. Rachel seemed to think this was normal, and maybe it was. Quinn always wanted more information about it, but Rachel seemed uncomfortable, and it was one thing to try to get drunken honesty from the girl you were dating, but it was a total other thing to take advantage of the drunken state of the girl you were dating by trying to get information she didn’t _want_ to give you when she was sober.

“You don’t want to do…stuff with me?”Quinn asked hesitantly, because God, she’d never had Rachel like this, all drunkenly honest. It was a good opportunity, even if she felt a little manipulative. She wasn’t going to fish for information about Rachel’s other relationships, but she thought she could fish for a little more information from Rachel on how she felt about theirs. That felt…acceptable.

Rachel sighed again. “I do,” she assured and then Rachel shifted and Quinn felt the tip of Rachel’s nose sort of slide up the length of her arm and then Rachel was kissing that space where her neck met her shoulder. “But I was always rushed into it sooner than I wanted to.” The tip of her tongue peeked out and licked Quinn’s neck. “I just want us to take our time. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Quinn breathed. It was the only thing she could say because Rachel’s mouth on her neck was incredibly distracting.

Rachel pulled back and settled back into the passenger seat. She leaned her back against the door and tilted her head back so that the back of her head rested against the glass of the window. “Are you ready?” she asked quietly, squinting at Quinn.”We can do it if you’re ready.”

Quinn paused and thought about it. “No,” she answered quietly, honestly. “I’m not ready.”

Rachel looked hesitant. “Are you just saying that? Because it’s okay if you want to,” she said very seriously. “If you’re ready… we can…I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to wait. I understand if you don’t want to wait. I love you, so if you want to, I’ll do anything you want.”

Quinn frowned. “I’m not just saying that. I’m not ready.”

Rachel smiled happily, relieved. “Then we’re the same.”

“I guess we are.” Quinn said.

Quinn paused, wondering if she had the nerve to ask all the questions to which she was afraid of the answers.

“Do you like them more than you like me?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel whispered.

\--

She was meaner to Rachel than she had to be after that. Rachel asked her time and again if she’d said something embarrassing or incriminating or hurtful whilst drunk, but each time, Quinn denied it. She didn't _want_ to be so mean, but she found herself making really derisive comments about Rachel’s hair, her clothes, her make-up, her singing-- everything. If Quinn got a better grade than Rachel on some school project, Quinn made a point to be mean about it. If some other girl in Glee got a solo over Rachel, she made a point to wonder out loud if Rachel was losing her touch. If Rachel so much _looked_ at someone else with interest, Quinn went out of her way to tell Rachel, “don’t get any ideas, Treasure Trail. I doubt they’d want anything to do with you anyway.” It was horrible, and it _felt_ horrible, and all it did was drive Rachel further away, which was the exact opposite of what Quinn really wanted.

It was just…she felt the compulsion to ruin everything all the time, because this relationship wrecked the pieces of her that were left over from being wrecked by parental rejection and abandonment, from having lifelong friends turn their backs on her and spread rumors about her, from giving away a tiny perfect baby because she just couldn’t do it. She tried so hard to put everything back together again. She knew she wasn’t Humpty Dumpty-- she wasn’t so shattered that she couldn’t be put back together again, but God, her life was hard enough.

It was hard enough to question her sexuality, to go from thinking boys were hunky, if a little annoying and kind of a chore, to swallowing hard at the sight of breasts in the locker room. It was hard enough to admit to herself she liked Rachel a little more than she was comfortable with. But Rachel was the only one she really trusted these days, and honestly, the only one she really wanted-- and Rachel’s attention constantly seemed divided. _That_ was too hard. And every time something happened to make Quinn believe things were _really_ good between them, she’d also get some small confirmation of her fear that she liked Rachel more than Rachel liked her. And then she felt that compulsion to ruin everything rise up in full force. So she was mean to Rachel and Rachel pulled away. But Rachel always came back, and that was what Quinn was counting on.

\--

Rachel was a collector. Not stamps or stickers or anything lame like that, but she was a collector, nonetheless. It was probably because she was an only child whose parents meticulously documented her childhood. Everything was documented and it sort of irritated Quinn to see Rachel never went through an awkward phase. Oh, sure, Rachel’s fashion sense was always…well, unfortunate. That was the kindest way to put it. And granted she needed some grooming now and then, like, those eyebrows when she was twelve, _geez_ , but God, Rachel was always just physically… _cute_. Even now, when most of McKinley tended to be disinclined to acknowledge her existence, nearly all would have to concede they wouldn’t kick her out of bed, either. At least, not until after they had sex.

So maybe all that meticulous attention to every detail of her childhood was what made Rachel a collector of the sentimental. Early on in their relationship, Quinn opened one of Rachel’s desk drawers to look for a rubber band and instead found what appeared to be a junk drawer. There were receipts, movie stubs, some weird looking leather bracelet, a pink breast cancer awareness bracelet, guitar picks, some mix CDs in their jewel cases. There was so much crap in there that Quinn became exasperated, shut the drawer and looked elsewhere.

It was only a few weeks after Cindy Wallace left to go back to Berkeley, but it was _months_ after Quinn first discovered that drawer, that Quinn was looking for an extra pen and she opened the drawer again, forgetting what a disaster it was, and saw things she recognized. She saw movie stubs from films that she’d seen with Rachel, a few mix CDs she’d made for Rachel (embarrassingly enough, she’d drawn her own cover art, because she’d been unable to squelch the compulsion), and notes she’d written in class to Rachel, refolded back along the original crease lines. It was then Quinn realized the drawer represented people Rachel dated. She dug through the drawer, feeling a twinge of hurt every time she found something that represented her, thrown haphazardly amongst all the other crap.

She found notes Cindy had written Rachel in class while they’d dated, a couple of postcards Cindy had sent Rachel from Berkeley, numerous letters of apology from Rachel’s ex-boyfriend, one of which Quinn couldn’t resist reading. “I’m sorry,” he wrote in closing. “It won’t happen again. I say it all the time, but I mean it this time. It won’t happen again.” His handwriting was in neat script, but he closed the letter simply with the first initial of his first name, one careless scrawl, just a big cursive ‘J’, all fancy with loops. It made Quinn want to punch him in the face.

“What is all this shit?” Quinn demanded when Rachel returned from the kitchen with a couple glasses of juice.

“My stuff.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “You kept all this stuff from them?” she demanded. “And you just throw in stuff that I gave you-- stuff that we did together with all the shit from them?”

It hurt her feelings. She knew she could be kinder to Rachel, but she still thought she was probably better to Rachel than Rachel’s exes. And since they were _still_ dating, she thought the things she’d given Rachel deserved better treatment than _this_.

Rachel looked at her for a moment in silence. “This thing with you doesn’t feel all that different from what I had with them,” she said carefully, holding her hand up when she saw the way Quinn’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “So I’m not treating it any differently. The ball’s in your court, Quinn.”

Quinn left without saying anything.

\--

Quinn approached Rachel the next morning before their first class.

Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s back and felt Rachel’s back stiffen and tense.

“Sorry,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel looked over her shoulder. “Hi,” she greeted, but she turned back to put books into her locker.

Quinn leaned in close. “I want to be different,” she whispered softly. “Don’t lump me in with _them_. Please.”

Rachel didn’t turn around. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay,” Quinn said, relieved. She went on to her class, leaving Rachel at her locker.

The next time Quinn went to Rachel’s she saw all the stuff that she’d given to Rachel was taken out of that drawer and placed around the room. It pleased her. Immensely.

Rachel smiled at her shyly. “I’m trying,” she said quietly. “Will you try, too?”

Quinn swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

\--

It was easier said than done.

It was just so damn easy to be mean to Rachel. Rachel never said anything, never confronted her about it, and didn’t even punish her with passive-aggressive comments or behavior. She could be cancer-inducing sweet to Rachel, or she could be heart-crushingly mean, and Rachel still treated her the same way. Yeah, it made her feel guilty every time she said something hurtful, but she couldn’t help herself. It was a compulsion and she had to obey. And she was resentful, because Rachel said she’d try too, and part of trying was _talking_ about that sort of thing, and Rachel never did. Rachel didn’t try or change, so Quinn didn’t see why she should, either.

\--

She found a dirty text message on Rachel’s phone from Cindy. Rachel was in the bathroom when the text came in and since it was an iPhone, Quinn could read it, even though it really hadn’t been her intention to snoop. But once she saw it, she just _had_ to look through Rachel’s phone. There were a few other texts from Cindy, though all of those were benign. She read the text messages Rachel sent Cindy, and all of them were sweetly encouraging, but again, they were benign. Rachel wished Cindy well on an exam, sympathized with how hard a paper was, that sort of thing. There was nothing that she should have gotten angry with, but Quinn couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first dirty text message Cindy had sent Rachel. It was a mixture of dirty and benign: ‘When I touch me, I still think of you. Will you start thinking of me again, too?’ it read.

Quinn looked through the rest of Rachel’s text messages. There were texts with Tina, some from her, some from Puck and many with Finn. But there was a whole series with Rachel’s ex, and he was still labeled as “Fantastic J,” that nauseatingly ridiculous nickname Rachel had for him just because they had a shared love for the _Fantastic Mr. Fox_ movie. There were text messages from a _year_ ago with him, and then there was a lull that lasted months and then they started up again. The iPhone’s design which made text messages look like a “conversation” allowed Quinn to pinpoint exactly when they started talking again (a text from him--“I miss you. Let’s go back to the start” months ago, when she first started dating Rachel) and they were still exchanging text messages even the day before. For whatever reason, Rachel kept all the text messages from him, even the ones that were just ‘K.’ His texts were _not_ innocuous, but all of Rachel’s were. It was a small comfort, and Quinn felt rage and jealousy bubble up all over again.

“Why are you looking through my phone?” Rachel asked quietly, when she came back into her bedroom from using the bathroom.

Quinn looked up and scowled. “Why are you still talking to everyone you’ve ever slept with?”

\--

The fight was a bad one-- definitely the worst she’d ever had with Rachel, but only because they’d never fought before. They argued over things like whose turn it was to pick the restaurant or what movie to see or the merits of one Hepburn over another, but they’d never fought before. They had a lot of opportunities, that was for sure, but Rachel never picked a fight, even when she would have fully been in her right.

However, it might have been the worst fight Quinn ever had with anyone, period.

She wasn’t sure how it escalated. But it was terrible, and Quinn found herself wishing she could just reverse time. She wished she could take back all her accusations and the way she talked to Rachel.

She said mean, awful things to Rachel, things she didn’t mean, but she said anyway because she knew how much it would hurt. And at first, Rachel was hurt. But then she was angry, and Quinn learned there was only so far Rachel could be pushed before she snapped. After all, people pushed Rachel around all the time-- she was bullied and Slushied, but she never tried to get back at anyone, never treated people as crappy as they treated her, so _of course_ , Rachel had her breaking point. And Rachel was scary when she was angry. If volcanic eruptions could be likened to angry outbursts, then Rachel was fucking Mt. Vesuvius in 79 AD when she was angry, all cataclysmic and awful and Quinn was the towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum.

“I never did anything wrong!” Rachel shouted. “I never did anything to make you think I would cheat on you.” She glared at Quinn. “If anything, _I_ should be the one to worry about that!”

It was a low blow.

“Screw you,” Quinn said frankly. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”

If Rachel couldn’t understand why it was wrong for her to text and talk with people she’d once dated, Quinn wasn’t going to spend the energy on telling her. They may not have been exclusive, but Quinn didn’t see how that mattered.

\--

They didn’t talk for a month, not even in Glee.

\--

It was a Friday night that Santana, Brittany and Quinn decided they’d go out together. They went to Dahlia’s and Quinn nearly burst into tears at the sight of Rachel and her ex-boyfriend sitting at a booth in the corner. Rachel looked over at them and smiled hesitantly, giving a tiny awkward wave.

Quinn glared at her and Santana glared, too, in a show of solidarity. Brittany smiled and waved. Rachel smiled and waved back until Santana put her hand on Brittany’s and pulled it down. Santana glared even harder at Rachel and Rachel blushed and looked away.

“You are so much cuter than he is,” Santana said reassuringly. People thought Santana was a bitch, and she was for the most part. But she could also be a really good friend, at least, when Santana could muster up a sense of sympathy and empathy.

“He’s drunk,” Brittany noted, glancing at Rachel and her dinner date.

Santana and Quinn looked at her skeptically. “Why would you say that?” Quinn asked.

“Because his Coke is way too light and he keeps putting his Coke under the table so he can pour stuff from his flask into it.” Brittany pointed. “He’s doing it now.”

Quinn and Santana glanced at him and sure enough, that’s exactly what he was doing. He finished his drink, set some money down on the table and then stood up, holding his hand out to Rachel. Rachel looked up at him, and she clearly asked him a question. He grinned at her, and Rachel grinned back. She took his hand and he pulled her up and put his arm around her as they left.

Quinn watched as he walked uncertainly, and bit her lip in concern. It seemed like Rachel was holding him up.

“Let’s go,” Quinn said, “The movie will start soon.”

“But we have thirty minutes, and the theatre is next door.” Santana protested.

“Still,” Quinn said.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Just admit you’re stalking Rachel,” she muttered. But she got up. “Come on,” Santana said. “Let’s make sure she’s not stupid enough to let him drive.”

They walked outside to see Rachel clearly agitated, trying to take away his keys. He was holding his keys out of her reach. He clearly thought it was hilarious, but Rachel looked close to tears.

“Just let me drive!”

“You don’t know how to drive stick,” he said.

Santana chortled and Quinn elbowed her in the ribs.

“Rachel,” Brittany called out. “Come watch a movie with us.”

Rachel glanced over at them and shook her head.

Quinn watched them argue for a few more minutes-- he was loud and increasingly belligerent, and Rachel was quietly pleading with him. Finally, he seemed to get tired of arguing because he just grabbed Rachel by the arm, and started pulling.

Quinn bit her lip and ran over to them.

“Rachel,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t go. We know he’s drunk. Don’t be stupid. Come watch the movie with us.”

“I’m not drunk,” he denied, flushing angrily.

Rachel gave Quinn a small smile. “It’ll be okay,” she said, her smile tight. “We’ve been fine before. He’s drank _way_ more and been okay.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said, taking her by the hand. “You’re an idiot if you go.”

Rachel pulled her hand away. “He’s my friend,” she said almost apologetically. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

He grinned at her and she smiled back.

Quinn was so frustrated she wanted to scream. What was it about falling in love with boys like him that made otherwise level-headed girls like Rachel act so stupidly? Quinn leaned in close. “Well, I don’t want anything to happen to _you_ ,” she hissed.

“Quinn, I don’t want anything to happen to me, either,” she said joked.

Quinn glared at her. “That’s not funny.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “I know. But I have to go with him. I just need to make sure he gets home safe. I promise, I’ll call you later.”

Quinn grabbed Rachel’s hand again. “Don’t go,” she begged softly. “Please. Come with us. You guys already broke up, come with me. You guys are done. Come with me. It’s a better choice.”

Rachel smiled at her reassuringly. “I do choose you,” she said softly. “It’ll be okay,” she promised. “But I have to make sure he gets home okay. He’s my friend. I’ll text you when I get home.”

Rachel left with him.

“Fuck,” Santana whispered. “I didn’t think she’d actually go with him. She’s _way_ stupider than I thought,” Santana said when Quinn rejoined Santana and Brittany.

They tried to follow him, but he was gone.

\--

Rachel was fine, of course, because this was real life and not some after-school special.

“He was just buzzed,” Rachel explained, sounding breezy and light-hearted when Quinn called her in response to the text that Rachel sent her which read simply, “I’m home. Goodnight.”

Rachel listened quietly to Quinn reaming her out and then explained, simply, “he was just buzzed.”

“That is the stupidest fucking thing I ever heard you say, and I’ve heard you say a lot of stupid fucking things.”

Rachel chuckled softly. “Quinn.”

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Quinn said. “Don’t you _dare_. It’s not funny. I can’t believe you left with him when he was so _obviously_ drunk. Buzzed driving _is_ drunk driving, haven’t you seen the PSAs and the billboards?”

Rachel chuckled again and Quinn wished there were a way she could reach through the phone and kick Rachel in the ass.

“It wasn’t the first time,” Rachel said softly. “It was okay.”

“I should hit you,” Quinn threatened. “I should hit you for being so stupid.”

“I know. It was stupid,” Rachel acknowledged. “I deserve it.” She sighed. “Quinn. I promise you, I won’t do it again.”

“I think,” Quinn said slowly, “that’s the least you could do.”

“I promise,” Rachel said softly. “I’m not going to see him anymore.” She paused, her voice wavering slightly. “He’s not good for me.”

Quinn felt like a rock suddenly lodged itself in her throat. She swallowed. “Did something happen? Are you okay?” Rachel had always refused to talk about him. Quinn never truly viewed Cindy as a threat because Rachel talked about her. But Rachel steadfastly refused to talk him. “

Rachel laughed ruefully. “We’re both fine,” she said. “I just realized that everyone’s right about him.” She paused. “I’ve always known that,” she admitted softly. She took a deep breath. “Quinn, I don’t want us to be mad at each other anymore. Can we stop being mad at each other?”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.

“I’ve missed you,” Rachel said softly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Quinn admitted in a whisper. Her voice became a little stronger. “But you’ve seemed busy,” she said insinuatingly.

She hated that she wasn’t first, because although it killed her to admit it, Rachel was first for her. If she had a choice between spending a night out with Rachel and spending a night out with anyone else, she’d want Rachel. Not that she always _chose_ Rachel, because Quinn wasn’t comfortable enough yet just to say what she wanted, and just because she wanted Rachel desperately didn’t mean she wanted Rachel to _know_ that she wanted her desperately.  
Rachel was quiet for a moment. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to see me anymore,” she said, her voice soft. “You said you didn’t care what I did, and you didn’t try to talk to me, so--”

“You didn’t try to talk to me either!”

“I was trying to move on,” Rachel said. “It’s what I do. If something doesn’t work out for me, I try to distract myself by moving on. But I don’t love him anymore, at least not like I used to. He’s my friend, so of course I love him. But I was only trying to keep myself busy because I was distracting myself from you. But I won’t see him or talk to him anymore, and you’re so much better to me than he ever was.”

“If that’s true, how badly did he treat you?” Quinn asked, only half-joking.

Rachel chuckled from low in her throat. Quinn found that to be endlessly appealing.

“It was good with you,” Rachel said softly, dodging the question entirely. “Not all good, but nothing ever is.”

“I should have been nicer to you,” Quinn said quietly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rachel said. “But I wanted to figure that out on your own.” She cleared her throat. “I should have been better to you,” she mumbled, sighing. Quinn could picture her, head ducked down so her hair was falling into her face and biting her lower lip. “I knew it, too, but I wasn’t. I mean…” Rachel trailed off in frustration. “I knew you weren’t particularly happy with the way things were, and I knew what I could have done differently to make you happier. But I didn’t. It’s just that I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even though I knew you deserved better.”

“Let’s try this again,” Quinn said. “Let’s start over. It was good more often than it was bad, right?”

“Yeah,” Rachel breathed. “It was.” She swallowed audibly. “Okay,” she whispered “Let’s try again.”  
\--

There was a CD left in her locker on Monday morning. It was just a plain CD in a jewel case, with a piece of white paper with a heart clearly drawn by Rachel and filled in with red color pencil, tucked into the case. She couldn’t help but think that heart was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. Even cuter than like, babies or baby animals or whatever. God, she was pathetic. There was a Post-It on top of the case.

It read simply.

‘Q,

I’m trying,

-R’

Quinn smiled and she tucked the CD into her bag. She used to jokingly accuse Rachel of being less into the relationship because every CD Rachel ever made for her was just tucked into a jewel case, no cover art, and handed over without ceremony, whereas she spent a lot of time drawing on her own cover art.

“I just don’t have the talent you have for drawing,” Rachel would always say in her own defense. “I can barely draw a decent flower.”

“Yeah whatever,” Quinn would always huff in response, worried she was more into Rachel than Rachel was into her.

Rachel came over after school while Quinn was listening to Rachel’s CD for the fourth time. Rachel left campus early that day for a dentist appointment and Quinn was happy to see her.

“Hey,” Quinn greeted with a smile. “How was the dentist?”

Rachel looked suitably glum for being post-dental visit. “I have to get my wisdom teeth out.”

Quinn winced sympathetically. “Does your mouth hurt now?”

“No,” Rachel said. She smiled at Quinn and flopped onto Quinn’s bed. “I love this song,” she commented in a pleased hum.

“I should hope so,” Quinn said. “This was your mix CD.” She threw herself on the bed next to Rachel.

Rachel grinned. “I’m glad you’re listening to it.”

“I like it,” Quinn said quietly. “I’ll always think of you now when I hear these songs”.

“You’re sweet,” Rachel murmured. She touched Quinn’s cheek and kissed her.

Quinn kissed her back. She peered into Rachel’s eyes once they pulled away for air. “Are you just passing the time with me until your next boyfriend?” she asked quietly. “I mean, what are we really doing?”

“We’re starting over, Quinn. I’m with you,” Rachel said quietly. “You’re the one I want ”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Rachel assured.

“I wanted to be nicer to you,” Quinn admitted softly. “But I was so sure you wanted to be with him instead of me. Or maybe with Cindy. I thought maybe you were just passing the time with me until your next boyfriend or girlfriend. Because…” Quinn’s voice trembled slightly. “You made it seem like this was an experiment. Like you were just doing me a favor or something to help me figure this out.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said sincerely. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“It kind of worked though,” Quinn said quietly. “Because you did…unconfuse me.”

“You unconfused me, too,” Rachel said softly. She cleared her throat. “Quinn, listen,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for not treating you better. It just that I felt out of control. First I dated Cindy, and everything was so new. And things with her went _way_ faster than I wanted it to. Then I met him things went _way_ faster than I wanted with him, too, and I was acting in ways with both of them I didn’t want to, I was doing things I didn’t want to, and I just felt like I wasn’t me anymore. Then there was _you_ and you were so confused and I was confused and then I asked you out and I kept wondering why I did that because I wasn’t _ready_ for anything, but then you weren’t either and I was relieved. And I really like you, but it was just…it was a lot to take in, and I didn’t handle it well.”

“I wouldn’t have pushed you into anything,” Quinn whispered. “I’m not exactly rushing into anything, either. I wasn’t just curious about…” Quinn blushed. “Sex,” she said softly. “I was just curious in general. And _you_ were the one who asked _me_ out. What the hell did I know? When you asked me out, I thought we were figuring things out together, because that’s what you said. But I guess I kind of thought you would take the lead and I’d take my cues from you. But you weren’t giving me any. “

“I know,” Rachel said, ducking her head. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t know what I was doing either. I was never in that position before. I always just did what they wanted, and I just didn’t want to feel so stupid this time. And I know I wasn’t as nice to you as I was to them, I wasn’t trying to make you happy the way I tried to make them happy and you didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t your fault I was too weak to stand up to them. I’m really sorry I let that get in the way of treating you right.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn said quietly.

“But I want to be with you. I’m sorry I was so busy trying to stay their friend and didn’t spend enough time trying to stay yours. I‘ve really thought about it, and _of course_ you wouldn’t want to be nice to me when I wasn’t nice to you. It’s not your fault that it didn’t go well, but I _promise_ , this time around, it’s going to be different.”

Quinn swallowed back the lump in her throat. “You were nice to me-- you were a lot nicer to me than I was to you, but you were just different from how I thought you would be. Maybe if I’d been nicer to you, you would have been better to me,” she said softly. “A chicken and egg thing or whatever. Because you _were_ nice to me. It’s just, I always got the sense you weren’t that into it, that you were just doing it as a favor to me or something. Any time anything even remotely sexy came up, you were changing the subject. You really didn’t seem that into me, you were always so distracted. You kept MySpacing with her and texting with him. You were still hanging out with him! And I was _jealous_ , okay? I was jealous. But you kept saying you were just friends and I felt like an _idiot_ for being jealous. But I resented it because I hated being so jealous, and I know it wasn’t your fault because I didn’t tell you I was jealous. And I’m sorry I wasn’t nicer to you because you’ve _always_ been nice to me, even before we started dating, even before we started being friends. But I hated how I was more into you than you were into me, and I was just really scared you’d go back to him or like, you’d decide you’d want to be with her, long-distance. And then I would be alone, because the only thing I really know for sure now is that I do like girls better than I like guys, but I really like _you_. And it was just…it was way too hard for me to be nice to you when you didn’t seem to like me anywhere near as much as I liked you.”

Rachel was quiet for a long time. She stared at Quinn, looking flummoxed and uncertain. “We,” Rachel finally declared, “are stupid.”

Quinn snorted. “Yeah.”

Rachel reached for one of Quinn’s hands and threaded their fingers together. “We aren’t so different, you know.”

“No, we’re not,” Quinn agreed.

“I can be good to you,” Rachel said plaintively. “I _want_ to be good to you. You and I can figure this out, Quinn. We’re both smarter than the average person, so we should be able to leverage that into making this work.”

Quinn chortled. “You’re such a weirdo,” she said affectionately.

Rachel squeezed her hand. “It’s just…” she faltered. “I have a lot invested in this,” she admitted quietly. “I always did. I know it would have been a lot easier if I gave any indication of that, but I really want this to work.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I want it to work, too” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “We can do this,” she said firmly. “I mean, if those weirdoes with the nineteen kids can make it work, you and I can, right?”

Rachel shuddered. “I don’t want nineteen kids, I’m being upfront about that right now.”

Quinn made a face and held up a hand. “Preaching to the choir.”

Rachel grinned. She kissed Quinn’s cheek. “I’m going to go,” she said softly. “We should let all this marinate.” She gently tugged her hand away, but Quinn held on.

“I know it’s only Monday,” Quinn said. “But I thought I should ask about your plans for Friday.”

Rachel gave her a lopsided grin. “It’s date night.”

“So that means?”

“It means I’m yours for the night,” Rachel assured. “All my Fridays can be yours.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, thinking about some of their most disastrous Fridays that they spent apart. “Would you care to put that in writing?”

Rachel chuckled. She took her index finger and crossed it over her own heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Quinn ducked her head. “Well, you don’t have to go to such extremes.”

Rachel laughed and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Quinn’s lips. “I should go.”

\--

Quinn woke up the next day, feeling new. She knew what it was like to break-up with someone, and have someone leave her. She knew how these things felt when she broke up with Finn, when she was cast aside by her parents, when she tumbled down the popularity pyramid. She knew the sting of waking up and not having a parent greet her at breakfast, or arrive at school and not have a sweetly doting boyfriend greet her at her locker. She knew what it felt like to walk through the halls and not have anyone talk to her, but talk _about_ her. She knew what it felt like to be told by a parent to get out, and she knew how it felt like to ask for just a minute to put on her shoes. She knew what it felt like to bring too much lunch simply out of habit because she was used to sharing it with Finn and then having to throw it away because he hated her. She knew what it felt like to feel helpless, alone and scared.

These were things she didn’t know:

She didn’t know what it felt like to wake up because of a text message from the girl she was dating, cheerfully telling her that she would see her in an hour and that she would bring a non-fat cappuccino just the way Quinn liked it. She didn’t know what it felt like to have someone slip next to her in the hallway at school when she felt her loneliest and whisper, “fuck them, they _wish_ they were you,” and Rachel _believed_ this was true. She didn’t know what it felt like to have someone reassure her that she was beautiful, smart, or kind at the precise moment she felt she was ugly, stupid and mean. She didn’t know what it felt like to have someone change out an order of regular fries for sweet potato fries with her tuna sandwich just because Quinn liked sweet potato fries but her order didn’t come with fries because she got a Greek salad-- and Rachel was allergic to sweet potato, to boot.

She didn’t know what those things felt like, but she _learned_.

\--

It was an ordinary Saturday night. There was nothing particularly notable about it, except the weather was warmer and everyone’s spirits seemed to have picked up. Quinn had learned by then that Rachel’s favorite season was spring, because she hated Christmas and Hanukkah time (rejection from her fathers’ families always put a damper on the holidays) and she associated the entire winter season with those holidays. She hated summer because it was too hot and she disliked autumn because she had to go back to school. But spring? Who hated spring?

They’d been kissing for what seemed like hours and Rachel slipped her hand under Quinn’s shirt. She unhooked Quinn’s bra and touched Quinn’s bare breast.

“Is that okay?”

“You don’t have to keep asking, I told you that,” Quinn grunted.

“Just making sure.”  
  
“Fuck,” Quinn moaned as one of Rachel’s thumbs grazed Quinn’s nipple.

“You like that, huh?” Rachel grinned.

“Don’t get cocky.”

Rachel laughed and then groaned and shuddered as Quinn began suckling at her neck. “Fuck.”

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Quinn teased.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I don’t have a mother,” Rachel breathed. “And _fuck_ will you stop bringing parental figures up? Jesus.”

“Lord’s name in vain,” Quinn reminded.

“He’s your Savior, not mine,” Rachel pointed out.

“Sacrilege!” Quinn exclaimed.

Rachel grinned and gripped Quinn’s hair from the back. She pulled, and it was not particularly gentle. “I’ve been bad. Do you want to make it hurt?”

Quinn swallowed hard at the insinuation.

Rachel’s grin faded and she pulled away immediately, putting space between them. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything,” she said, scrambling for an explanation. “I was just--”

Quinn swallowed again. She pulled Rachel close. She buried her face into Rachel’s shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathed. “I need to do this,” she panted. She licked her dry lips. “Fuck,” she repeated. She brushed her lips close to Rachel’s ear. “I’m wet,” she said, blushing a deep scarlet. “If you aren’t ready, then you really need to take me home.”

Rachel swallowed hard. She pushed her hand inside the back of Quinn’s jeans, past her underwear and touched Quinn’s bare butt. She drew Quinn even closer. “C’mere.”

Quinn grinned, and Rachel grinned back.

End.


End file.
